By Reza Ghaffari
A favorite Iranian political prisoner tells his tale from the time of his arrest to his eventual break out a decade later
Dr. Reza Ghaffari was once a professor on the collage of Tehran till his 1981 arrest for suspicion of being a member of a banned socialist staff. This account of his stories via 10 years of torture and as a witness to—and close to sufferer of—prison massacres deals exceptional perception into the torturous therapy of political prisoners who oppose the Iranian regime. not anything written in English or in Persian has so comprehensively and movingly portrayed criminal stipulations and the energy of these soreness them—not basically a listing of atrocities, it's also a story of triumph for integrity and the human spirit within the face of the maximum degradation. In 1999 the Iranian professionals got here searching for Dr. Ghaffari in London and he used to be moved to a "safe house" by means of MI6 the place he stayed for just about a 12 months. After 9-11, the terrorist danger point within the united kingdom was once raised and Dr. Ghaffari was once allowed again to his relatives with higher surveillance on his condo. The years of torture have taken their toll on his well-being yet he has refused to be intimidated and is as decided as ever that his tale will be instructed. The fatwah imposed opposed to writer Salman Rushdie for writing The Satanic Verses scared many publishers into refusing to print this publication, A nation of worry, in English
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Extra resources for A State of Fear: My 10 Years Inside Iran's Torture Jails
One day at the North Ryde centre, I saw a brown-haired girl lying on a mat on the floor, a puddle of pink vomit near her head. I recognised the long rigid fingers and angulated thumbs, the tapered fingernails and the waxy skin of Elizabeth’s hands. She was small and skinny with the same funny ears and eyebrows and a similar downturned mouth. Elizabeth was fair, this girl was dark, but the features were unmistakable. There was someone else on earth just like our sister. Maybe because I was a twin, I registered her doppelgänger.
Mum and Aunty Marian visited each 35 a l way s l i z a t o m e other often and we would play with our twin cousins or watch the older girls dancing the twist with their friends. We would also visit our grannies. On our mother’s side, Grandpa had died just before Elizabeth was born. Although we had not met him in person, the tales of his adventures meant that he was as real to us as our living grandparents. On the other side there were Grandma and Papa. It tickled me that we had a grandpa with a nanny and a papa with a grandma, as though they had swapped partners.
The nurses wore uniforms, and they were not magical princesses. For the first time we saw a collection of disabled children in cots or lying on mats on the floor being nursed and supervised. They were not all the same as Elizabeth and they did not share each other’s peculiarities. Some were noisy, bleating or babbling, some completely 33 a l way s l i z a t o m e silent and motionless, some were rocking, or wringing their hands, or waving their arms in front of their eyes like a tiny baby. One had a huge head and could not lift it without support.